


When the Blind See

by writewithurheart



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Force-Sensitive Chirrut Îmwe, Gen, M/M, Minor Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, POV Chirrut Îmwe, character backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewithurheart/pseuds/writewithurheart
Summary: He was born blind, but he never let that stop him. In fact, it might even be his greatest asset.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Brief Disclaimer: This is my first Star Wars fic. Although I'm a avid fan of the movies, that's about all I know. Apologies for any inaccuracies.

**When the Blind See**

He was born into a war.

Not the great Clone War but a smaller planetary dispute. He’d been born blind, presumably to a poor family who abandoned him before the age of three to the streets. By all rights, Chirrut should have died within days, maybe weeks, but those weeks turned into months and then years, and he survived, he  _ thrived _ . 

When he was hungry, he felt a tug that guided him to food; when he was tired, it took him somewhere warm and dry to sleep; when danger loomed, it directed him away, or if it was unavoidable, through it.

He never perceived it as anything extraordinary. It was just always there.

It had led him to Baze.

They’d met when he was five and Baze was nine. That same telltale tug had pulled him down the alley where Baze had holed up for the night, tucked out of sight of the rioting separatists who had currently claimed the city. Five children who fancied themselves separatists had seen Chirrut and thought him the perfect target, although for what, he hadn’t been sure. It was the weak they preyed on, too young to actually wage a fight against anyone more powerful than a blind boy. They’d pursued him into the alley.

“Get away from him!” Baze was tall for a child of nine, tall and loud. He’d run from his hiding spot, screaming and waving a slingshot over his head. The boys had run after that, not even bothering to put up a token fight.

Baze had turned back to him with an assessing gaze, brushing long hair back from his face. Chirrut couldn’t see it, not the way normal people could, but the ripple of the air and movement of energy gave him a rough idea of what was around him, and that presence was stronger around Baze than most people and it comforted him, a shivering blind boy.  

“You should stay away from those guys.”

Chirrut leaned against his walking stick with a smile. “But you scared them away.”

Baze snorted, but Chirrut had felt his amusement at this statement and knew, in that bone-deep certainty he got, that this boy was his: his friend, his partner, his other half. This boy could be his eyes. Chirrut lowered himself onto a step, his face directed to the mouth of the alley as if he could see any threats coming just as well as any other person.

“What’s your name anyway, kid?” Baze finally asked as he sat beside Chirrut.

“Chirrut Îmwe.”

Friendship had been simple after that. Neither boy was much for talking and they managed to communicate better than most without words. Five years later, they were a seamless unit. They trusted each other in a life where trust was a fantasy and living into adulthood was almost impossible for kids on the street. They didn’t flourish, but they survived.

Chirrut was eleven when he met his first Jedi.

He was sitting on a ratty blanket on the outskirts of the market square with his rusty tin out, begging, for lack of a better word. It was the rare person who passed a blind child and didn’t offer some sort of compensation to relieve their own guilty conscience. It was one of his normal spots, one that he and Baze rotated to every couple weeks. They’d been there hundreds of times, but this time: he felt something different.

A powerful presence intruded on his being, pushing at the sense that had guided him through life and never steered him wrong. It lit up his senses with acute awareness, an almost exact measurement between him and the being exuding such a powerful aura. Unable to resist the call of something so bright, he reached out with his senses, probed the presence, startled by the sheer magnitude of it.

At eleven, he was aware that his sense wasn’t normal, even for a blind boy. He’d figured out over the years how to use it, minimally, to ask it to show him what he needed rather than just follow the feelings as they came. And he did ask, because it seemed to move and feel just as he did.

He knew, for instance, that all beings exuded a ‘presence’ and that some were stronger with the presence he sensed than others. How they felt it was different, of course, but he had witnessed it in the gambling dens, when men followed that sense to win large pools. Baze had displayed a sensitivity to the presence, a sensitivity stronger than most, but even he paled in comparison to the two distinct presences that currently crossed the square. He was sure they would disappear in a moment, swallowed up into the crowds of the city, overcome with the vitality of a marketplace that managed to thrive despite a continuing war.

So he was startled when the older one paused in surprise mid-step a few yards from Chirrut’s perch. Chirrut had been sitting there all morning to no avail. His tin, on a good day, would have enough in it for a meal for him and Baze.Today was not a good day.

He debated for a moment the merit of leaving now before they could approach. Disappearing into the the crowd would be easy for a blind boy. But the presence wasn’t malevolent. If anything it was soothing, a balm on his scattered mind. As if driven by the same instinct that guided Chirrut, the man approached, slowly and carefully. As he drew near, Chirrut could hear his companion:

“Master, we should be meeting with the delegation-“

“Peace, young padawan, the Force speaks in many ways and it is best to listen.” The man’s voice matched the presence: soft with kindness and wisdom unheard of in their war-torn city that seems to change hands every couple years.

His…padawan, whatever that may be, sounds impatient, younger, but his presence burns hotter than his master’s. As they approach the auras become more defined, more individualized until Chirrut feels like he can almost see them.

Behind him, Baze shifted forward, ready to defend Chirrut like the guardian angel he had dubbed himself. Chirrut just sits a little straighter as the two presences stop in front of his blanket. The older one took a moment to rifle through his cloak and dropped a handful of credits into the tin can.

The moment of silence dragged on, letting them marinate in the tension.

“The Force is strong with you.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact.

It’s the first time Chirrut heard “the Force” used to describe that presence that had always been with him. As soon as he heard it, the presences he felt thrummed with awareness, an echo of the word, a verification that the Force was indeed the presence that guided him his whole life, another name for the presence he felt.

“Force?” He tested the word in his mouth, learning the feel of the word.

The man sat across from him, on the dirty ground. “The Force is all around us, in every living being. It guides all of us, some more than others. I sense a great affinity in you.”

Chirrut found his calling in that moment. With each word, he felt a greater connection to the men before him, a connection he hadn’t felt since meeting Baze. If this was the Force, he wanted to learn more. “Who are you?”

“Qui-gon Jinn, Jedi Master.” He paused and Churrit felt his future hanging by a threat. “How would you like to learn about the Force?”

There was an offer in there, one that would lead to a new world. It wouldn’t be a burden to accept it. In fact, an offer like that, if it were valid, could have let him live in peace and comfort for most of his life. But there were plenty of reasons for a grown man to offer to whisk a boy away from his terrible life, not all of them good. 

Not that Chirrut got that impression from the Jedi in front of him. 

Jedi wasn’t an unknown term, even in their far reaches of the galaxy. Their little planet existed just inside the outer rim, with a few delegates to represent them in the Senate. As a part of that Jedis were rumored to keep the peace,  but Chirrut had never met any before, never heard of anyone meeting one before. However, their auras...they spoke to the truth of the man’s words. 

“The delegation-” 

“Obi-wan, trust your instincts. What do you feel?” 

The sigh that escaped the younger man reminded Chirrut of the belabored sighs Baze gave whenever Chirrut decided to do anything that could possibly be deemed irresponsible.  It was a sound that spoke of a history of similar incidents. 

The aura - or Force, as they claimed - probed out, pressing against Chirrut’s own consciousness. It was a poke, a barely there prod that spoke volumes. Here was someone who could do what Chirrut could and had the ability to explain  _ what  _ it was. 

“The Force is strong with him,” the younger man agreed somewhat reluctantly. 

Qui-gon clapped decisively. “There you go!” 

“That doesn’t mean we can bring him back with us. He is too old.” 

“And who says he wants to be a Jedi? Do you, young one? Want to be a Jedi?” 

Chirrut’s furrowed brow was his answer. The option didn’t appeal to him. He didn’t need swords of light, didn’t want them. “No.” 

“But,” Qui-gon prompted. 

The thing that guided him his whole life yanked him towards the man - the men - in front of him. His future here was treacherous and unpredictable, the only certainty an early death on the streets. If he went with them, he sensed just as many risks. His future either way was not certain. Both paths led to potential pain and death. Neither path would be overly happy, but one...one would be fulfilling. 

His whole life was possible because of the Force and now it was giving him a choice. He could continue here with the life he knew or he could venture into the unknown.  It was his choice. 

And yet there was no choice at all. 

“I live because of the Force, but who would give a blind boy a lightsaber.” Who would trust him with such a weapon? He’d be more likely to hurt himself. At least his walking stick wouldn’t cut off his limbs.  

“There are other ways to serve the Force. I know not where this path may take you, only that it is right to offer it to you.” Silence pulsed between them like the heartbeat of a living thing. “You have a gift, young one. How you use it is up  to you.” 

Chirrut knew which choice drew him in, but he wasn’t the only variable. Baze would have to choose. To embark on this journey without a similar offer for Baze was impossible. If he was given the option and turned it down,  that would be one thing, but to leave him without any option at all was unforgiveable. 

Besides, if he was fit for any position, then surely Base was as well. This Force had drawn them together for a reason, right? 

“Our ship departs for Corrisant tomorrow morning. If you and your companion wish to come with us, meet us at the airfield.” 

That could have been it, the end of the matter. He could have let the Jedi walk out of his life and never seen them again.  

“What was that about?” Baze voice cracked on the word ‘that’, much to his consternation. 

“They offered us a way off planet.” Chirrut followed their auras through the marketplace. “I want to go.” 

Baze snorted. “They’ll sell you to the Hutts in the outer rim.” 

“They won’t,” Chirrut disagreed. Excitement buzzed through his veins at the decision he’s already made, thundering with life. The decision felt right, as right as it had felt finding Baze. 

Baze shook his head. “You’re an idiot. You’re going to die.” 

Chirrut laughed as he rose from his position, jingling his tin can full of coins. “Not with you watching my back.” 

If he were honest, he’d admit that a part of him worried his best friend wouldn’t follow him, that he would take this step alone. He knew he could face anything with Baze at his side,but this choice was Baze’s. All he could do was hope Baze would make the same choice. His heart was already committed to this one. 

“You’re a fool,” Baze shouted after him. Chirrut swallowed his anxiety and kept walking. He sensed his best friend’s annoyance and anger as he stalked off in the opposite direction. 

Chirrut felt alone for the first time since he was five. He felt...cold. Baze’s concerns were valid. Trusting two strangers was crazy, and yet not the craziest thing he’d done. It was the right choice. 

If he said it enough, maybe he’d stop feeling like he lost a limb. 

That could have been the last Chirrut ever heard of Baze, the end of a friendship, an era of his life. 

He stood at the bottom of the loading ramp, one step away from leaving his whole life behind. The whole universe lay before him, his for the taking but his heart was still here,  angry at him. It waas harder to take that step than he had anticipated. 

“You can change your mind.” Obi-wan Kenobi crouched to Chirrut’s level, despite the fact that he couldn’t see. The man was far more compassionate this morning than he had been yesterday. 

“I was sure he would come.” 

Time seemed to be the enemy as he took that first step. 

Two steps. 

Three. 

_ Four. _

“You didn’t think you could leave without me, did you?” 

Chirrut paused halfway up the ramp. He leaned against his walking stick with a grin. “You came.” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Baze growled as he bypassed Chirrut with long strides. “Someone has to watch your back.” 

Chirrut resumed his steps, the unknown no longer as intimidating with Baze on his side. 

The next couple weeks passed in a whirl of voices and activity. Most of the potential initiates were tiny children - four years in age. Chirrut and Baze had been informed almost immediately that their age disqualified them from becoming Jedi. Chirrut’s laughing comment about handing a blind boy a sword, was not as widely appreciated as he hoped. 

A month later, they boarded another ship bound for the Guardian Academy to be trained as guards and acolytes, to serve and protect the Jedi’s secrets and the temples. There were trained in the ways and views of the Light side of the Force, but of their classmates, Chirrut doubted a single one had much strength in the Force. 

Several of the student were disgruntled, ex-padawans, all far younger. They were all what the instructors called ‘malleable.’ Baze and Chirrut were older, more set in their ways, harder to mold. But what they lacked in innocence, they made up for in skill. 

Baze preferred guns, an unusual choice for temple guards. He had to fight for the ability to use it instead of the traditional staffs of the guards. By that time, he was well over six feet tall and towered over the majority of their instructors.  

They made temple guards only a couple months before the Clone Wars erupted. They watched as the Temple at Jeddah was all but abandoned, as the Jedi dwindled in number. Slowly, their numbers dropped as tales of the Sith grew. 

Yet the more confirmation they heard of the Sith, the more people started to disbelieve. Jeddah, once the stronghold of the Jedi fell as their attention was drawn elsewhere. Guards deserted the Temple, keen to gain favor with the Sith as the Dark Side started to take over the Force. 

Where once the temple housed upwards of one hundred and fifty  elite guards, their numbers fell until there were only five. Their attempts to keep the Kibar Crystals - their treasure - from the Sith,  or as they became better known: the Empire, failed. Try as they might, they could not stop the Storm Troopers from ransacking the Temple, even if they managed to secret away a small amount of kiber crystal. 

It was there,  standing outside the fallen temple, where Chirrut felt a presence in the Force, an aura that called to him and demanded his attention. It wasn’t particularly powerful or noteworthy, but it was vibrant. 

The aura held a spark, a small inkling of potential hidden beneath a crusty surface. And that spark centered on a bit of kiber crystal that hung around her neck. 

He hadn’t known that by speaking up in that moment, he would be entwining himself in events that could change history. He just knew he was drawn to her for a reason. 

He never regretted that moment, even when he stepped out to flip the switch and open communications to the Rebel Fleet. He knew he wouldn’t live past the hour, knew he would get shot, but as he prayed to the Force to guide him to that switch, to let him live long enough to flip it, he couldn’t regret a single instant in his life because it led him here.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Comments are always appreciated!


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